The Defacing

Today I discovered how one of my younger siblings spent a long-ago afternoon. I just don’t know which one, though I have my guess.

And I don’t know what prompted the defacing of the picture book I found in some old things my mom was sorting. But I have my hunch about that, too.

Likely a new baby had come to our house. This happened often. And this is when my mother would gather us around and read Our Baby, a Ding Dong book by Dr. Frances R. Horwich.

Miss Frances, as children knew her, hosted Ding Dong School, the first preschool series of the air, a precursor to Sesame Street and Mister Roger’s Neighborhood. Miss Frances opened every episode by ringing a school bell, and she insisted that camera lenses be angled so that kids could see everything at what she called a Lilliputian eye level.

Not having a television, we didn’t know any of this.

We just knew that Miss Frances had written a book about Jack, whose house didn’t look much like ours, especially when a new baby came to stay. At Jack’s house, everything was evened up—cushions on the couch, stacks of folded diapers, towels hanging on holders, and blankets on beds. The grandma’s apron was starched and flouncy, the father wore a suit and tie, and the mother looked as if she had just come off a wellness retreat.

One day, after Mom read Our Baby to us, one of us must have crept away to a secluded corner with the book and a ballpoint pen. And at the end of what was likely a therapeutic hour, the house in the book looked more like our house. The pen left scrawls across happy faces and scribbles all through once-tidy rooms.

What intrigued me most, was that on every page in the book, a pair of eyeglasses perched on every face, even on the baby.

What did this mean? Though I took a semester-long class on interpreting children’s art, I don’t know. Maybe Jack’s family needed some flaws. Or maybe, with no television to watch and a fussy baby in the house, drawing eyeglasses was just a way to while away an afternoon.